To earthly things: he's not prepared to step
Into the presence of his God!
BUTLER (_going_).
God's merciful!
GORDON (_holds him_).
Grant him but this night's respite.
BUTLER (_hurrying off_)
The next moment
May ruin all.
GORDON _(holds him still_).
One hour!--
BUTLER. Unhold me! What
Can that short respite profit him?
[Illustration: DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN Karl von Piloty]
GORDON.
O--Time
Works miracles. In one hour many thousands
Of grains of sand run out; and quick as they,
Thought follows thought within the human soul.
Only one hour! _Your_ heart may change its purpose,
_His_ heart may change its purpose--some new tidings
May come; some fortunate event, decisive,
May fall from Heaven and rescue him. O what
May not one hour achieve!
BUTLER.
You but remind me,
How precious every minute is!
[_He stamps on the floor._]
SCENE VII
_To these enter_ MACDONALD _and_ DEVEREUX, _with the_
HALBERDIERS
GORDON (_throwing himself between him and them_).
No, monster!
First over my dead body thou shalt tread.
I will not live to see the accursed deed!
BUTLER (_forcing him out of the way_).
Weak-hearted dotard!
[_Trumpets are heard in the distance_.]
DEVEREUX _and_ MACDONALD.
Hark! the Swedish trumpets!
The Swedes before the ramparts! Let us hasten!
GORDON (_rushes out_).
O, God of mercy!
BUTLER (_calling after him_).
Governor, to your post!
GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (_hurries in_).
Who dares make larum here? Hush! The Duke
sleeps.
DEVEREUX (_with loud harsh voice_).
Friend, it is time now to make larum.
GROOM OF THE CHAMBER.
Help!
Murder!
BUTLER.
Down with him!
GROOM OF THE CHAMBER (_run through the body by_ DEVEREUX,
_falls at the entrance of the Gallery_).
Jesus Maria!
BUTLER.
Burst the doors open.
[_They rush over the body into the Gallery--two doors are
heard to crash one after the other.--Voices, deadened by the
distance--clash of arms--then all at once a profound
silence._]
SCENE VIII
COUNTESS TERZKY (_with a light_).
Her bed-chamber is empty; she herself
Is nowhere to be found! The Neubrunn too,
Who watch'd by her, is missing. If she should
Be flown--but whither flown? We must call up
Every soul in the house. How will the Duke
Bear up against these worst bad tidings? O
If that my husband now were but return'd
Home from the banquet!--Hark! I wonder whether
The Duke is still awake! I thought I heard
Voices and tread of feet here! I will go
And listen at the door. Hark! what is that?
'Tis hastening up the steps!
SCENE IX
COUNTESS, GORDON
GORDON (_rushes in out of breath_).
'Tis a mistake!
'Tis not the Swedes--Ye must proceed no further
Butler!--O God! where is he?
GORDON (_observing the_ COUNTESS).
Countess! Say--
COUNTESS.
You are come then from the castle? Where's my husband?
GORDON (_in an agony of affright)_.
Your husband!--Ask not!--To the Duke--
COUNTESS.
Not till
You have discover'd to me--
GORDON.
On this moment
Does the world hang. For God's sake! to the Duke.
While we are speaking--
[_Calling loudly_.]
Butler! Butler! God!
COUNTESS.
Why, he is at the castle with my husband.
[BUTLER _comes from the Gallery_.]
GORDON.
'Twas a mistake--'Tis not the Swedes--it is
The Imperialists' Lieutenant-General
Has sent me hither--will be here himself
Instantly.--You must not proceed.
BUTLER.
He comes
Too late.
[GORDON _dashes himself against the wall_.]
GORDON.
O God of mercy!
COUNTESS.
What too late?
Who will be here himself? Octavio
In Egra? Treason! Treason!--Where's the
Duke?
[_She rushes to the Gallery._]
SCENE X
_Servants run across the Stage, full of terror. The whole
Scene must be spoken entirely without pauses_.
SENI (_from the Gallery_).
A bloody, frightful deed!
COUNTESS.
What is it, Seni?
PAGE (_from the Gallery_).
O piteous sight!
[_Other servants hasten in with torches_.]
COUNTESS.
What is it? For God's sake!
SENI.
And do you ask?
Within, the Duke lies murder'd--and your husband
Assassinated at the Castle.
[_The_ COUNTESS _stands motionless_.]
FEMALE SERVANT (_rushing across the stage_).
Help! help! the Duchess!
BURGOMASTER (_enters_).
What mean these confused
Loud cries that wake the sleepers of this house?
GORDON.
Your house is cursed to all eternity.
In your house doth the Duke lie murder'd!
BURGOMASTER (_rushing out_).
Heaven forbid!
1ST SERV.
Fly! fly! they murder us all!
SECOND SERVANT (_carrying silver plate_).
That way! the lower
Passages are block'd up.
VOICE (_from behind the Scene_).
Make room for the Lieutenant-General!
[_At these words the_ COUNTESS _starts from her stupor,
collects herself, and retires suddenly_.]
VOICE (_from behind the Scene_).
Keep back the people! Guard the door!
SCENE XI
_To these enter_ OCTAVIO PICCOLOMINI _with all his train. At
the same time_ DEVEREUX _and_ MACDONALD _enter from out the
Corridor with the Halberdiers_.--WALLENSTEIN'S _dead body is
carried over the back part of the stage, wrapped in a piece
of crimson tapestry_.
OCTAVIO (_entering abruptly_).
It must not be! It is not possible!
Butler! Gordon!
I'll not believe it. Say no!
[GORDON, _without answering, points with his hand to the
body of_ WALLENSTEIN _as it is carried over the back of the
stage._ OCTAVIO _looks that way, and stands overpowered with
horror._]
DEVEREUX (_to_ BUTLER).
Here is the golden fleece--the Duke's Sword--
MACRON.
Is it your order--
BUTLER (_pointing to_ OCTAVIO).
Here stands he who now
Hath the sole power to issue orders.
[DEVEREUx _and_ MACDONALD _retire with marks of obeisance.
One drops away after the other, till only_ BUTLER, OCTAVIO,
_and_ GORDON _remain on the stage.]_
OCTAVIO (_turning to_ BUTLER).
Was that my purpose, Butler, when we parted?
O God of Justice!
To thee I lift my hand! I am not guilty
Of this foul deed.
BUTLER.
Your _hand_ is pure. You have
Avail'd yourself of mine.
OCTAVIO.
Merciless man!
Thus to abuse the orders of thy Lord--
And stain thy Emperor's holy name with murder,
With bloody, most accursed assassination!
BUTLER (_calmly_).
I've but fulfilled the Emperor's own sentence.
OCTAVIO.
O curse of Kings,
Infusing a dread life into their words,
And linking to the sudden transient thought
The unchanging irrevocable deed.
Was there necessity for such an eager
Dispatch? Couldst thou not grant the merciful
A time for mercy? Time is man's good Angel.
To leave no interval between the sentence,
And the fulfilment of it, doth beseem
God only, the immutable!
BUTLER.
For what
Rail you against me? What is my offense?
The Empire from a fearful enemy
Have I deliver'd, and expect reward;
The single difference betwixt you and me
Is this: you placed the arrow in the bow:
I pull'd the string. You sow'd blood, and yet stand
Astonish'd that blood is come up. I always
Knew what I did, and therefore no result
Hath power to frighten or surprise my spirit.
Have you aught else to order; for this instant
I make my best speed to Vienna; place
My bleeding sword before my Emperor's throne,
And hope to gain the applause which undelaying
And punctual obedience may demand
From a just judge.
[_Exit_ BUTLER.]
SCENE XII
_To these enter the_ COUNTESS TERZKY, _pale and disordered.
Her utterance is slow and feeble, and unimpassioned_.
OCTAVIO (_meeting her_).
O, Countess Terzky! These are the results
Of luckless unblest deeds.
COUNTESS.
They are the fruits
Of your contrivances. The Duke is dead,
My husband too is dead, the Duchess struggles
In the pangs of death, my niece has disappear'd,
This house of splendor, and of princely glory,
Doth now stand desolated: the affrighted servants
Rush forth through all its doors. I am the last
Therein; I shut it up, and here deliver
The keys.
OCTAVIO (_with a deep anguish_).
O Countess! my house, too, is desolate.
COUNTESS.
Who next is to be murder'd? Who is next
To be maltreated? Lo! the Duke is dead,
The Emperor's vengeance may be pacified!
Spare the old servants; let not their fidelity
Be imputed to the faithful as a crime--
The evil destiny surprised my brother
Too suddenly: he could not think on them.
OCTAVIO.
Speak not of vengeance! Speak not of maltreatment!
The Emperor is appeased; the heavy fault
Hath heavily been expiated--nothing
Descended from the father to the daughter,
Except his glory and his services.
The Empress honors your adversity,
Takes part in your afflictions, opens to you
Her motherly arms! Therefore, no farther fears;
Yield yourself up in hope and confidence
To the Imperial Grace!
COUNTESS. _(with her eye raised to heaven_).
To the grace and mercy of a greater Master
Do I yield up myself. Where shall the body
Of the Duke have its place of final rest?
In the Chartreuse, which he himself did found
At Gitschin, rests the Countess Wallenstein;
And by her side, to whom he was indebted
For his first fortunes, gratefully he wish'd
He might sometime repose in death! O let him
Be buried there. And likewise, for my husband's
Remains, I ask the like grace. The Emperor
Is now the proprietor of all our castles.
This sure may well be granted us--one sepulchre
Beside the sepulchres of our forefathers!
OCTAVIO.
Countess, you tremble, you turn pale!
COUNTESS _(re-assembles all her powers, and speaks with
energy and dignity)_.
You think
More worthily of me than to believe
I would survive the downfall of my house.
We did not hold ourselves too mean to grasp
After a monarch's crown--the crown did fate
Deny, but not the feeling and the spirit
That to the crown belong! We deem a
Courageous death more worthy of our free station
Than a dishonor'd life.--I have taken poison.
OCTAVIO.
Help! Help! Support her!
COUNTESS.
Nay, it is too late,
In a few moments is my fate accomplish'd.
[_Exit_ COUNTESS.]
GORDON.
O house of death and horrors!
[_An_ OFFICER _enters, and brings a letter with the great
seal_. GORDON _steps forward and meets him._]
What is this?
It is the Imperial Seal.
[_He reads the address, and delivers the letter to_ OCTAVIO
_with a look of reproach, and with an emphasis on the
word._]
To the _Prince_ Piccolomini.
[OCTAVIO, _with his whole frame expressive of sudden
anguish, raises his eyes to heaven_.]
[_The Curtain drops._]
* * * * *
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 22: Thomas: The Life and Works of Schiller, p. 330.]
[Footnote 23: Permission The Macmillan Co., New York, and G. Bell &
Sons, London.]
[Footnote 24: A great stone near Lützen, since called the Swede's
Stone, the body of their great king having been found at the foot of
it, after the battle in which he lost his life.]
[Footnote 25: Could I have hazarded such a Germanism as the use of the
word after-world, for posterity--"Es spreche Welt und _Nachwelt_
meinen Namen" might have been rendered with more literal
fidelity:--Let world and after-world speak out my name, etc.]
[Footnote 26: I have not ventured to affront the fastidious delicacy
of our age with a literal translation of this line,
werth
Die Eingeweide schaudernd aufzureger.]
[Footnote 27: Anspessade, in German Gefreiter, a soldier inferior to a
corporal, but above the sentinels. The German name implies that he is
exempt from mounting guard.]
[Footnote 28: I have here ventured to omit a considerable number of
lines. I fear that I should not have done amiss, had I taken this
liberty more frequently. It is, however, incumbent on me to give the
original, with a literal translation.
Weh denen, die auf Dich vertraun, an Dich
Die sichre Hütte illres Glückes lehnen,
Gelockt von deiner geistlichen Gestalt.
Schnell unverhofft, bei nächtlich stiller Weile
Gährts in dem tückschen Feuerschlunde, ladet
Sich aus mit tobender Gewalt, und weg
Treibt über alle Pflanzungen der Menschen
Der Wilde Strom in grausender Zerstörung.
WALLENSTEIN.
Du schilderst deines Vaters Herz. Wie Du's
Beschreibst, so ist's in seinem Eingeweide,
In dieser schwarzen Heuchlers Brust gestaltet.
O, mich hat Höllenkunst getäuscht! Mir sandte
Der Abgrund den verflecktesten der Geister,
Den Lügenkundigsten herauf, and stellt' ihn
Als Freund an meiner Seite. Wer vermag
Der Hölle Macht zu widerstehn! Ich zog
Den Basilisken auf an meinem Busen,
Mit meinem Herzblut nährt ich ihn, er sog
Sich schwelgend voll an meiner Liebe Brüsten,
Ich hatte nimmer Arges gegen ihn,
Weit offen liess ich des Gedankens Thore,
Und warf die Schlüssel weiser Vorsicht weg,
Am Sternenhimmel, etc.
LITERAL TRANSLATION
Alas! for those who place their confidence on thee, against thee lean
the secure hut of their happiness, allured by thy hospitable form.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, in a moment still as night, there is a
fermentation in the treacherous gulf of fire; it discharges itself
with raging force, and away over all the plantations of men drives the
wild stream in frightful devastation.--WALLENSTEIN. Thou art
portraying thy father's heart; as thou describest, even so is it
shaped in his entrails, in this black hypocrite's breast. O, the art
of hell has deceived me! The Abyss sent up to me the most spotted of
the spirits, the most skilful in lies, and placed him as a friend by
my side. Who may withstand the power of hell? I took the basilisk to
my bosom, with my heart's blood I nourished him; he sucked himself
glutfull at the breasts of my love. I never harbored evil toward him;
wide open did I leave the door of my thoughts; I threw away the key of
wise foresight. In the starry heaven, etc.--We find a difficulty in
believing this to have been written by Schiller.]
[Footnote 29:
This is a poor and inadequate translation of the affectionate simplicity
of the original--
Sie alle waren Fremdlinge; _Du_ warst
Das Kind des Hauses.
Indeed the whole speech is in the best style of Massinger. _O si sic
omnia!_]
[Footnote 30: It appears that the account of his conversion being
caused by such a fall, and other stories of his juvenile character,
are not well authenticated.]
[Footnote 31: We doubt the propriety of putting so blasphemous a
statement in the mouth of any character.--T.]
[Footnote 32: This soliloquy, which, according to the former
arrangement; constituted the whole of Scene IX., and concluded the
Fourth Act, is omitted in all the printed German editions. It seems
probable that it existed in the original manuscript from which Mr.
Coleridge translated.--Ed.]
[Footnote 33: The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of
six-and-twenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular
recurrence. I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole scene
between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps have been omitted
without injury to the play.--C.]
[Footnote 34: These four lines are expressed in the original with
exquisite felicity--
Am Himmel ist geschäftige Bewegung.
Des Thurmes Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht
Der Wolken Zug, die _Mondessichel wankt_,
Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse Helle.
The word "moon-sickle," reminds me of a passage in Harris, as quoted
by Johnson, under the word "falcated." "The enlightened part of the
moon appears in the form of a sickle or reaping-hook, which is while
she is moving from the conjunction to the opposition, or from the new
moon to the full: but from full to a new again, the enlightened part
appears gibbous, and the dark _falcated_."
The words "wanken" and "schweben" are not easily translated. The
English words, by which we attempt to render them, are either vulgar
or pedantic, or not of sufficiently general application. So "der
Wolken Zug"--literally, The Draft, the Procession of clouds;
freely--The Masses of the Clouds sweep onward in swift _stream_.]
[Footnote 35: A very inadequate translation of the original--
Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich,
Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch!
LITERALLY.
I shall _grieve down_ this blow, of that I'm conscious:
What does not man grieve down?]
* * * * *
INTRODUCTION TO WILLIAM TELL
BY WILLIAM H. CARRUTH, PH.D.
Professor of Comparative Literature, Leland Stanford University
William Tell is the last complete drama written by Schiller, finished
February 18, 1804, in the author's forty-fifth year and something over
a year before his death. After this he completed only a pageant, _The
Homage of the Arts_, although he was occupied with many plans for
other plays, including _Demetrius_, founded on the career of the
Russian pretender of this name, of which he left the first act.
_William Tell_ is the last of Schiller's five great dramas, a series
beginning with _Wallenstein_, written within nine years, constituting,
along with his ballads and many other poems, the work of what is
called his "third period." This period was preceded by Schiller's
chief prose works and the historical and philosophical studies
preparatory thereto, together with considerable reading of Greek and
English classics, notably Homer and Shakespeare. The influence of his
historical and critical studies and of this reading is evident in the
dramas: _Wallenstein, Maria Stuart, The Maid of Orleans, The Bride of
Messina, William Tell_. But of these, _William Tell_ stands apart in
several ways.
For all of them Schiller made careful preliminary studies, but for
none in such detail as for _Tell_. He had not only a remote historical
material to deal with, but also a land and customs which he had never
seen and which nevertheless he wished to present with great fidelity.
His chief source was the Swiss chronicler Tschudi, of the sixteenth
century, from whom he took not only the main features of his action,
but many touches of scenery and much actual phraseology. In addition
he studied the Swiss historian Johannes von Mueller, maps and natural
histories of Switzerland, and received also some oral notes from
Goethe, to whom, in fact, he owed the original suggestion of
dramatizing the story of William Tell.
Unlike the other dramas of Schiller's last period, _William Tell_ has
no plot in the technical dramatic sense. There is no snare of
circumstances laid which forces a hero, after vain attempts to elude
or unloose it, to tear his way out at the cost of more or less
innocent lives. We see the representatives of three small,
freedom-loving democracies pushed beyond endurance by the outrages of
tyranny, pledging mutual support in resisting these encroachments upon
their liberties, and carrying out a successful resistance, aided by
the wholly fortuitous assassination of the tyrannical emperor. We see,
as a single instance of these oppressions, the arrogant caprice of the
bailiff Gessler in demanding homage to the Austrian hat, his jealousy
of the freeman Tell expressed in imposing as a penalty for neglected
obeisance the shooting of an apple from his little son's head, the
successful meeting of this test, and in turn Tell's vengeance through
the exercise of this same prowess in shooting Gessler as he rides home
through the Hohle Gasse. Mingled with these elements we see the
patriotic support of the common people by a native noblewoman, Bertha
von Brunneck, and her successful effort to win to this cause, through
his love for her, the young Baron von Rudenz, whose uncle
Attinghausen, always loyal to his people, hears in dying the news of
his nephew's conversion, while with his last breath he prophesies the
triumph of liberty. These three threads are woven into a single
pattern through the element of the common cause. This is the unity of
the action, which many critics have found wanting in the play.
Moreover these three plans of action coöperate, if not by deliberate
foresight, yet by coincidence of time and purpose, and in some measure
by common personages.
The theme of _William Tell_ had been used as early as the sixteenth
century in one of the early popular pageants with which the modern
German drama begins. These pageants occupied the whole of several days
in presentation and employed, including all supernumeraries, as high
as three hundred people. Schiller knew the old Tell Play and imbibed
something of its spirit. He uses masses of populace in _William Tell_
as in no other of his plays except the _Camp_ of the _Wallenstein_
trilogy. It may be that the influence of the old popular play together
with the nature of his material led him to dispense here with the
unity of action, the plot, and the expression of tragic guilt, which
may be found in all his other later plays.
Along with keen appreciation, such as A.W. Schlegel's comment: "Imbued
with the poetry of history, with a treatment true to nature and
genuine, and, considering the poet's unfamiliarity with the country,
astonishingly correct in local color," _William Tell_ met from the
first much adverse criticism. This applied first of all to the
looseness of connection already cited between the various elements of
the action, and further, to the supposed superfluousness of the
Parricide episode in the Fifth Act, to the alleged unnaturalness of
Tell's long speeches and to the ignoble nature of his assault upon
Gessler from ambush. The last was given the poet in the legend of
Tell, which in general he took over with pious reverence as authentic
history. The Parricide episode was introduced, partly because it was
actually there in history and helped to complete the victory of the
peasants' cause, partly in order to give a better color to Tell's own
act, as being less prompted by selfish considerations. The criticism
of Tell's speeches, whether his pithy, epigrammatic sentences in Act
I, Scenes 1 and 3, and elsewhere, or his long monologue in Act IV,
Scene 3, applies to the whole constitution of the conventional stage
with just as much validity against Shakespeare's _Julius Cæsar_ and
_Hamlet_ as against _William Tell_. True, it is not plausible that
Tell recited 100 lines of beautiful poetry while lying in wait for
Gessler; neither is it likely that Prince Hamlet talked to himself in
pentameters.
In general this play is more objective than Schiller's other plays,
and this was a quality which he admired in Goethe's work and strove
for in his own. Despite the technical criticisms, we find that the
play is filled with beautiful descriptions and noble sentiments nobly
expressed. On the stage most of the scenes are exceedingly fascinating
and effective. These beauties are quite sufficient to hide the lack of
unity, and the total effect with the majority of the people is a high
esthetic and ethical gratification. The play has remained one of the
most popular pieces on the German stage and has had an incalculable
effect in the cultivation of national feeling.
* * * * *
WILLIAM TELL
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
HERMANN GESSLER, _Governor of Schwytz and Uri_.
WERNER, _Baron of Attinghausen, free noble of Switzerland_.
ULRICH VON RUDENZ, _his Nephew_.
WERNER STAUFFACHER, }
CONRAD HUNN, }
HANS AUF DER MAUER, }
JORG IM HOFE, } _People of Schwytz_.
ULRICH DER SCHMIDT, }
JOST VON WEILER, }
ITEL REDING, }
WALTER FÜRST,
WILLIAM TELL, }
RÖSSELMANN, _the Priest_,}
PETERMANN, _Sacristan_, } _of Uri_.
KUONI, _Herdsman_, }
WERNI, _Huntsman_, }
RUODI, _Fisherman_, }
ARNOLD OF MELCHTHAL,
CONRAD BAUMGARTEN, }
MEYER VON SARNEN, }
STRUTH VON WINKELRIED, } _of Unterwald_.
KLAUS VON DER FLUE, }
BURKHART AM BUHEL, }
ARNOLD VON SEWA, }
PFEIFFER OF LUCERNE.
KUNZ OF GERSAU.
JENNI, _Fisherman's son_.
SEPPI, _Herdsman's son_.
GERTRUDE, _Stauffacher's wife_.
HEDWIG, _wife of Tell, daughter of Fürst_.
BERTHA OF BRUNECK, _a rich heiress_.
ARMGART, }
MECHTHILD, }
ELSBETH, } _Peasant women_.
HILDEGARD, }
WALTER, } _Tell's Sons_.
WILLIAM, }
FRIESSHARDT, } _Soldiers_.
LEUTHOLD, }
RUDOLPH DER HARRAS, _Gessler's master of the horse_.
JOHANNES PARRICIDA, _Duke of Suabia_.
STUSSI, _Overseer_.
THE MAYOR OF URI.
A COURIER.
MASTER STONEMASON, COMPANION AND WORKMEN.
TASKMASTER.
A CRIER.
MONKS OF THE ORDER OF CHARITY.
HORSEMEN OF GESSLER AND LANDENDERG.
MANY PEASANTS; MEN AND WOMEN FROM THE WALDSTETTEN.
WILLIAM TELL (1804)[36]
TRANSLATED BY SIR THEODORE MARTIN, K.C.B, LL.D.
ACT I
SCENE I
_A high rocky shore of the lake of Lucerne opposite Schwytz.
The lake makes a bend into the land; a hut stands at a short
distance from the shore; the fisher boy is rowing about in
his boat. Beyond the lake are seen the green meadows, the
hamlets and farms of Schwytz, lying in the clear sunshine.
On the left are observed the peaks of the Hacken, surrounded
with clouds; to the right, and in the remote distance,
appear the Glaciers. The Ranz des Vaches, and the tinkling
of cattle bells, continue for some time after the rising of
the curtain._
FISHER BOY (_sings in his boat_)
_Melody of the Ranz des Vaches_
The smile-dimpled lake woo'd to bathe in its deep,
A boy on its green shore had laid him to sleep;
Then heard he a melody
Floating along,
Sweet as the notes
Of an angel's song.
And as thrilling with pleasure he wakes from his rest,
The waters are rippling over his breast;
And a voice from the deep cries,
"With me thou must go,
I charm the young shepherd,
I lure him below."
HERDSMAN (_on the mountains_)
_Air--Variation of the Ranz des Vaches_
Farewell, ye green meadows,
Farewell, sunny shore,
The herdsman must leave you,
The summer is o'er.
We go to the hills, but you'll see us again,
When the cuckoo calls, and the merry birds sing,
When the flowers bloom afresh in glade and in glen,
And the brooks sparkle bright in the sunshine of Spring.
Farewell, ye green meadows,
Farewell, sunny shore,
The herdsman must leave you,
The summer is o'er.
CHAMOIS HUNTER (_appearing on the top of a cliff_)
_Second Variation of the Ranz des Vaches_
On the heights peals the thunder, and trembles the bridge,
The huntsman bounds on by the dizzying ridge.
Undaunted he hies him
O'er ice-covered wild,
Where leaf never budded,
Nor Spring ever smiled;
And beneath him an ocean of mist, where his eye
No longer the dwellings of man can espy;
Through the parting clouds only
The earth can be seen;
Far down 'neath the vapor
The meadows of green.
[_A change comes over the landscape. A rumbling, cracking
noise is heard among the mountains. Shadows of clouds sweep
across the scene_.]
[RUODI, _the fisherman, comes out of his cottage_. WERNI,
_the huntsman, descends from the rocks_. KUONI, _the
shepherd, enters, with a milkpail on his shoulders,
followed by_ SEPPI, _his assistant_.]
RUODI.
Come, Jenni, bustle, get the boat on shore.
The grizzly Vale-King[37] comes, the Glaciers moan,
The Mytenstein[38] is drawing on his hood,
And from the Stormcleft chilly blows the wind;
The storm will burst, before we know what's what.
KUONI.
'Twill rain ere long; my sheep browse eagerly,
And Watcher there is scraping up the earth.
WERNI.
The fish are leaping, and the water-hen
Keeps diving up and down. A storm is brewing.
KUONI. (_to his boy_).
Look, Seppi, if the beasts be all in sight.
SEPPI.
There goes brown Liesel, I can hear her bells.
KUONI.
Then all are safe; she ever ranges farthest.
RUODI.
You've a fine chime of bells there, master herdsman.
WERNI.
And likely cattle, too. Are they your own?
KUONI.
I'm not so rich. They are the noble lord's
Of Attinghaus, and told off to my care.
RUODI.
How gracefully yon heifer bears her ribbon!
KUONI.
Ay, well she knows she's leader of the herd,
And, take it from her, she'd refuse to feed.
RUODI.
You're joking now. A beast devoid of reason--
WERNI.
Easily said. But beasts have reason, too--
And that we know, we chamois-hunters, well.
They never turn to feed--sagacious creatures!
Till they have placed a sentinel ahead,
Who pricks his ears whenever we approach,
And gives alarm with clear and piercing pipe.
RUODI. (_to the shepherd_).
Are you for home?
KUONI.
The Alp is grazed quite bare.
WERNI.
A safe return, my friend!
KUONI.
The same to you!
Men come not always back from tracks like yours.
RUODI.
But who comes here, running at topmost speed?
WERNI.
I know the man; 'tis Baumgart of Alzellen.
KONRAD BAUMGARTEN (_rushing in breathless_).
For God's sake, ferryman, your boat!
RUODI.
How now?
Why all this haste?
BAUM.
Cast off! My life's at stake!
Set me across!
KUONI.
Why, what's the matter, friend?
WERNI.
Who are pursuing you? First tell us that.
BAUM. (_to the fisherman_).
Quick, quick, man, quick! they're close upon my heels!
It is the Viceroy's men are after me;
If they should overtake me, I am lost.
RUODI.
Why are the troopers in pursuit of you?
BAUM.
First make me safe and then I'll tell you all.
WERNI.
There's blood upon your garments--how is, this?
BAUM.
The Imperial Seneschal, who dwelt at Rossberg--
KUONI.
How! What! The Wolfshot?[39] Is it he pursues you?
BAUM.
He'll ne'er hurt man again; I've settled him.
ALL (_starting back_).
Now, God forgive you, what is this you've done!
BAUM.
What every free man in my place had done.
Mine own good household right I have enforced
'Gainst him that would have wrong'd my wife--my honor.
KUONI.
How! Wronged you in your honor, did he so?
BAUM.
That he did not fulfil his foul desire,
Is due to God and to my trusty axe.
WERNI.
And you have cleft his skull then, with your axe?
KUONI.
O, tell us all! You've time enough, and more,
While he is getting out the boat there from the beach.
BAUM.
When I was in the forest felling timber,
My wife came running out in mortal fear.
"The Seneschal," she said, "was in my house,
Had order'd her to get a bath prepared,
And thereupon had ta'en unseemly freedoms,
From which she rid herself, and flew to me."
Arm'd as I was, I sought him, and my axe
Has given his bath a bloody benison.
WERNI.
And you did well; no man can blame the deed.
KUONi.
The tyrant! Now he has his just reward!
We men of Unterwald have owed it long.
BAUM.
The deed got wind, and now they're in pursuit.
Heavens! whilst we speak, the time is flying fast.
[_It begins to thunder_.]
KUONI.
Quick, ferryman, and set the good man over.
RUODI.
Impossible! a storm is close at hand,
Wait till it pass! You must.
BAUM.
Almighty heavens!
I cannot wait; the least delay is death.
KUONI (_to the fisherman_).
Push out--God with you! We should help our neighbors;
The like misfortune may betide us all.
[_Thunder and the roaring of the wind_.]
RUODI.
The south wind's up![40] See how the lake is rising!
I cannot steer against both wind and wave.
BAUM. (_clasping him by the knees_).
God so help you as now you pity me!
WERNI.
His life's at stake. Have pity on him, man!
KUONI.
He is a father: has a wife and children.
[_Repeated peals of thunder_.]
RUODI.
What! and have I not, then, a life to lose,
A wife and child at home as well as he?
See how the breakers foam, and toss, and whirl,
And the lake eddies up from all its depths!
Right gladly would I save the worthy man,
But 'tis impossible, as you must see.
BAUM. (_still kneeling_).
Then must I fall into the tyrant's hands,
And with the shore of safety close in sight!
Yonder it lies! My eyes can see it clear,
My very voice can echo to its shores.
There is the boat to carry me across,
Yet must I lie here helpless and forlorn.
KUONI.
Look! who comes here?
RUODI.
'Tis Tell, ay, Tell, of Bürglen.[41]
[_Enter_ TELL _with a crossbow_.]
TELL.
What man is he that here implores for aid?
KUONI.
He is from Alzellen, and to guard his honor
From touch of foulest shame, has slain the Wolf-shot,
The Imperial Seneschal, who dwelt at Rossberg.
The Viceroy's troopers are upon his heels;
He begs the ferryman to take him over,
But frightened at the storm he says he won't.
RUODI.
Well, there is Tell can steer as well as I,
He'll be my judge, if it be possible.
[_Violent peals of thunder--the lake becomes more
tempestuous_.]
Am I to plunge into the jaws of hell?
I should be mad to dare the desperate act.
TELL.
The brave man thinks upon himself the last.
Put trust in God, and help him in his need!
RUODI.
Safe in the port, 'tis easy to advise.
There is the boat, and there the lake! Try you!
TELL.
The lake may pity, but the Viceroy never.
Come, risk it, man!
SHEPHERD _and_ HUNTSMAN.
O save him! save him! save him!
RUODI.
Though 'twere my brother, or my darling child,
I would not go. 'Tis Simon and Jude's day;
The lake is up, and calling for its victim.
TELL.
Nought's to be done with idle talking here.
Each moment's precious; the man must be help'd;
Say, boatman, will you venture?
RUODI.
No; not I.
TELL.
In God's name, then, give me the boat! I will,
With my poor strength, see what is to be done!
KUONI.
Ha, gallant Tell!
WERNI.
That's like a huntsman true.
BAUM.
You are my angel, my preserver, Tell.
TELL.
I may preserve you from the Viceroy's power,
But from the tempest's rage another must.
Yet better 'tis you fall into God's hands,
Than into those of men.
[_To the herdsman_.]
Herdsman, do thou
Console my wife if I should come to grief.
I could not choose but do as I have done.
[_He leaps into the boat_.]
KUONI (_to the fisherman_).
A pretty man to keep a ferry, truly!
What Tell could risk, you dared not venture on.
RUODI.
Far better men would never cope with Tell.
There's no two such as he 'mong all our hills.
WERNI (_who has ascended a rock_).
Now he is off. God help thee, gallant sailor!
Look how the little boat reels on the waves!
KUONI. (_on the shore_).
There! they have swept clean over it. And now
'Tis out of sight. Yet stay, there 'tis again!
Stoutly he stems the breakers, noble fellow!
SEPPI.
Here come the troopers hard as they can ride!
KUONI.
Heavens! so they do! Why, that was help, indeed.
[_Enter a troop of horsemen_.]
1ST H.
Give up the murderer! You have him here!
2D H.
This way he came! 'Tis useless to conceal him!
RUODI _and_ KUONI.
Whom do you mean?
1ST H. (_discovering the boat_).
The devil! What do I see?
WERNI (_from above_).
Is't he in yonder boat ye seek? Ride on,
If you lay to, you may o'ertake him yet.
2D H.
Curse on you, he's escaped!
1ST H. (_to the shepherd and fisherman_).
You help'd him off,
And you shall pay for it! Fall on their herds!
Down with the cottage! burn it! beat it down!
[_They rush off._]
SEPPI (_hurrying after them_).
Oh my poor lambs!
KUONI (_following him_).
Unhappy me, my herds!
WERNI.
The tyrants!
RUODI (_wringing his hands_).
Righteous Heaven! Oh, when will come
Deliverance to this doom-devoted land?
[_Exeunt severally_.]
SCENE II
_A lime tree in front of_ STAUFFACHER's _house at Steinen,
in Schwytz, upon the public road, near a bridge_.
WERNER STAUFFACHER, _and_ PFEIFFER, _of Lucerne, enter into
conversation_.
PFEIFF.
Ay, ay, friend Stauffacher, as I have said,
Swear not to Austria, if you can help it.
Hold by the Empire stoutly as of yore,
And God preserve you in your ancient freedom!
[_Presses his hand warmly and is going_.]
STAUFF.
Wait till my mistress comes. Now do! You are
My guest in Schwytz--I in Lucerne am yours.
PFEIFF.
Thanks! thanks! But I must reach Gersau today.
Whatever grievances your rulers' pride
And grasping avarice may yet inflict,
Bear them in patience--soon a change may come.
Another Emperor may mount the throne.
But Austria's once, and you are hers forever.
[_Exit_.]
[STAUFFACHER _sits down sorrowfully upon a bench under the
lime tree. Gertrude, his wife, enters, and finds him in this
posture. She places herself near him, and looks at him for
some time in silence_.]
GERT.
So sad, my love! I scarcely know thee now.
For many a day in silence I have mark'd
A moody sorrow furrowing thy brow.
Some silent grief is weighing on thy heart.
Trust it to me. I am thy faithful wife,
And I demand my half of all thy cares.
[STAUFFACHER _gives her his hand and is silent_.]
Tell me what can oppress thy spirits thus?
Thy toil is blest--the world goes well with thee--
Our barns are full--our cattle, many a score;
Our handsome team of well-fed horses, too,
Brought from the mountain pastures safely home,
To winter in their comfortable stalls.
There stands thy house--no nobleman's more fair!
'Tis newly built with timber of the best,
All grooved and fitted with the nicest skill;
Its many glistening windows tell of comfort!
'Tis quarter'd o'er with scutcheons of all hues,
And proverbs sage, which passing travelers
Linger to read and ponder o'er their meaning.
STAUFF.
The house is strongly built, and handsomely,
But, ah! the ground on which we built it quakes.
GERT.
Tell me, dear Werner, what you mean by that?
STAUFF.
No later gone than yesterday, I sat
Beneath this linden, thinking with delight,
How fairly all was finished, when from Küssnacht
The Viceroy and his men came riding by.
Before this house he halted in surprise:
At once I rose, and, as beseemed his rank,
Advanced respectfully to greet the lord
To whom the Emperor delegates his power,
As judge supreme within our Canton here.
"Who is the owner of this house?" he asked,
With mischief in his thoughts, for well he knew.
With prompt decision, thus I answered him:
"The Emperor, your grace--my lord and yours,
And held by me in fief." On this he answered,
"I am the Emperor's vice-regent here,
And will not that each peasant churl should build
At his own pleasure, bearing him as freely
As though he were the master in the land.
I shall make bold to put a stop to this!"
So saying, he, with menaces, rode off,
And left me musing with a heavy heart
On the fell purpose that his words betray'd.
GERT.
My own dear lord and husband! Wilt thou take
A word of honest counsel from thy wife?
I boast to be the noble Iberg's child,
A man of wide experience. Many a time,
As we sat spinning in the winter nights,
My sisters and myself, the people's chiefs
Were wont to gather round our father's hearth,
To read the old imperial charters, and
To hold sage converse on the country's weal.
Then heedfully I listened, marking well
What now the wise man thought, the good man wished,
And garner'd up their wisdom in my heart.
Hear then, and mark me well; for thou wilt see,
I long have known the grief that weighs thee down.
The Viceroy hates thee, fain would injure thee,
For thou past cross'd his wish to bend the Swiss
In homage to this upstart house of princes,
And kept them staunch, like their good sires of old,
In true allegiance to the Empire. Say,
Is't not so, Werner? Tell me, am I wrong?
STAUFF.
'Tis even so. For this doth Gessler hate me.
GERT.
He burns with envy, too, to see thee living
Happy and free on thine ancestral soil,
For he is landless. From the Emperor's self
Thou hold'st in fief the lands thy fathers left thee.
There's not a prince i' the Empire that can show
A better title to his heritage;
For thou hast over thee no lord but one,
And he the mightiest of all Christian kings.
Gessler, we know, is but a younger son,
His only wealth the knightly cloak he wears;
He therefore views an honest man's good fortune
With a malignant and a jealous eye.
Long has he sworn to compass thy destruction.
As yet thou art uninjured. Wilt thou wait
Till he may safely give his malice vent?
A wise man would anticipate the blow.
STAUFF.
What's to be done?
[Illustration: STAUFFACHER AND HIS WIFE GERTRUDE As
performed at the Royal Theatre, Dresden, 1906.]
GERT.
Now hear what I advise.
Thou knowest well, how here with us in Schwytz
All worthy men are groaning underneath
This Gessler's grasping, grinding tyranny.
Doubt not the men of Unterwald as well,
And Uri, too, are chafing like ourselves,
At this oppressive and heart-wearying yoke.
For there, across the lake, the Landenberg
Wields the same iron rule as Gessler here--
No fishing-boat comes over to our side,
But brings the tidings of some new encroachment,
Some fresh outrage, more grievous than the last.
Then it were well that some of you--true men--
Men sound at heart, should secretly devise,
How best to shake this hateful thraldom off.
Full sure I am that God would not desert you,
But lend His favor to the righteous cause.
Hast thou no friend in Uri, one to whom
Thou frankly may'st unbosom all thy thoughts?
STAUFF.
I know full many a gallant fellow there,
And nobles, too--great men, of high repute,
In whom I can repose unbounded trust.
[_Rising_.]
Wife! What a storm of wild and perilous thoughts
Hast thou stirr'd up within my tranquil breast!
The darkest musings of my bosom thou
Hast dragg'd to light, and placed them full before me;
And what I scarce dared harbor e'en in thought,
Thou speakest plainly out with fearless tongue.
But has thou weigh'd well what thou urgest thus?
Discord will come, and the fierce clang of arms,
To scare this valley's long unbroken peace,
If we, a feeble shepherd race, shall dare
Him to the fight that lords it o'er the world.
Ev'n now they only wait some fair pretext
For setting loose their savage warrior hordes,
To scourge and ravage this devoted land,
To lord it o'er us with the victor's rights,
And, 'neath the show of lawful chastisement,
Despoil us of our chartered liberties.
GERT.
You, too, are men; can wield a battle axe
As well as they. God ne'er deserts the brave.
STAUFF.
Oh wife! a horrid, ruthless fiend is war,
That smites at once the shepherd and his flock.
GERT.
Whate'er great Heaven inflicts, we must endure;
But wrong is what no noble heart will bear.
STAUFF.
This house--thy pride--war, unrelenting war
Will burn it down.
GERT.
And did I think this heart
Enslaved and fettered to the things of earth,
With my own hand I'd hurl the kindling torch.
STAUFF.
Thou hast faith in human kindness, wife; but war
Spares not the tender infant in its cradle.
GERT.
There is a Friend to innocence in heaven.
Send your gaze forward, Werner--not behind.
STAUFF.
We men may die like men, with sword in hand;
But oh, what fate, my Gertrude, may be thine?
GERT.
None are so weak, but one last choice is left.
A spring from yonder bridge and I am free!
STAUFF. (_embracing her_).
Well may he fight for hearth and home, that clasps
A heart so rare as thine against his own!
What are the host of Emperors to him?
Gertrude, farewell! I will to Uri straight.
There lives my worthy comrade, Walter Fürst;
His thoughts and mine upon these times are one.
There, too, resides the noble Banneret
Of Attinghaus. High though of blood he be,
He loves the people, honors their old customs.
With both of these I will take counsel how
To rid us bravely of our country's foe.
Farewell! and while I am away, bear thou
A watchful eye in management at home.
The pilgrim journeying to the house of God,
And holy friar, collecting for his cloister,
To these give liberally from purse and garner.
Stauffacher's house would not be hid. Right out
Upon the public way it stands, and offers
To all that pass a hospitable roof.
[_While they are retiring_, TELL _enters with_ BAUMGARTEN.]
TELL.
Now, then, you have no further need of me.
Enter yon house. 'Tis Werner Stauffacher's,
A man that is a father to distress.
See, there he is, himself! Come, follow me.
[_They retire up. Scene changes_.]
SCENE III
_A common near Altdorf. On an eminence in the background a
Castle in progress of erection, and so far advanced that the
outline of the whole may be distinguished. The back part is
finished: men are working at the front. Scaffolding, on
which the workmen are going up and down. A slater is seen
upon the highest part of the roof. All is bustle and
activity._
TASKMASTER, MASON, WORKMAN _and_ LABORERS
TASK. (_with a stick, urging on the workmen_).
Up, up! You've rested long enough. To work!
The stones here! Now the mortar, and the lime!
And let his lordship see the work advanced,
When next he comes. These fellows crawl like snails!
[_To two laborers, with loads_.]
What! call ye that a load? Go, double it.
Is this the way ye earn your wages, laggards?
1ST. W.
'Tis very hard that we must bear the stones,
To make a keep and dungeon for ourselves!
TASK.
What's that you mutter? 'Tis a worthless race,
For nothing fit but just to milk their cows,
And saunter idly up and down the hills.
OLD MAN (_sinks down exhausted_).
I can no more.
TASK. (_shaking him_).
Up, up, old man, to work!
1ST. W.
Have you no bowels of compassion, thus
To press so hard upon a poor old man
That scarce can drag his feeble limbs along?
MASTER MASON _and_ WORKMEN.
Shame, shame upon you--shame! It cries to heaven.
TASK.
Mind your own business. I but do my duty.
1ST W.
Pray, Master, what's to be the name of this
Same castle, when 'tis built?
TASK.
The Keep of Uri;
For by it we shall keep you in subjection.
WORK.
The Keep of Uri?
TASK.
Well, why laugh at that?
2D W.
Keep Uri, will you, with this paltry place!
1ST W.
How many molehills such as that must first
Be piled up each on each, ere you make
A mountain equal to the least in Uri?
[TASKMASTER _retires up the stage_.]
MAS. M.
I'll drown the mallet in the deepest lake,
That served my hand on this accursed pile.
[_Enter_ TELL _and_ STAUFFACHER.]
STAUFF.
O, that I had not lived to see this sight!
TELL.
Here 'tis not good to be. Let us proceed.
STAUFF.
Am I in Uri--Uri, freedom's home?
MAS. M.
O, Sir, if you could only see the vaults
Beneath these towers. The man that tenants them
Will ne'er hear cock crow more.
STAUFF.
O God! O God!
MASON.
Look at these ramparts and these buttresses,
That seem as they were built to last forever.
TELL.
What hands have built, my friend, hands can destroy.
[_Pointing to the mountains_.]
_That_ home of freedom God hath built for us.
[_A drum is heard. People enter bearing a cap upon a pole,
followed by a crier. Women and children thronging
tumultuously after them_.]
1ST W.
What means the drum? Give heed!
MASON.
Why, here's a mumming!
And look, the cap--what can they mean by that?
CRIER.
In the Emperor's name, give ear!
WORK.
Hush! silence! hush!
CRIER.
Ye men of Uri, ye do see this cap!
It will be set upon a lofty pole
In Altdorf, in the market place: and this
Is the Lord Governor's good will and pleasure;
The cap shall have like honor as himself,
All do it reverence with bended knee,
And head uncovered; thus the King will know
Who are his true and loyal subjects here;
His life and goods are forfeit to the crown
That shall refuse obedience to the order.
[_The people burst out into laughter. The drum beats and the
procession passes on_.]
1ST W.
A strange device to fall upon indeed:
Do reverence to a cap! A pretty farce!
Heard ever mortal anything like this?
MAS. M.
Down to a cap on bended knee, forsooth!
Rare jesting this with men of sober sense!
1ST W.
Nay, an it were the imperial crown! A cap!
Merely the cap of Austria! I've seen it
Hanging above the throne in Gessler's hall.
MASON.
The cap of Austria? Mark that! A snare
To get us into Austria's power, by Heaven!
WORK.
No freeborn man will stoop to such disgrace.
MAS. M.
Come--to our comrades, and advise with them;
[_They retire up_.]
TELL (_to_ STAUFFACHER).
You see how matters stand! Farewell, my friend!
STAUFF.
Whither away? Oh, leave us not so soon.
TELL.
They look for me at home. So fare ye well.
STAUFF.
My heart's so full, and has so much to tell you.
TELL.
Words will not make a heart that's heavy light.
STAUFF.
Yet words may possibly conduct to deeds.
TELL.
Endure in silence! We can do no more.
STAUFF.
But shall we bear what is not to be borne?
TELL.
Impetuous rulers have the shortest reigns.
When the fierce south wind rises from his chasms,
Men cover up their fires, the ships in haste
Make for the harbor, and the mighty spirit
Sweeps o'er the earth, and leaves no trace behind.
Let every man live quietly at home;
Peace to the peaceful rarely is denied.
STAUFF.
And is it thus you view our grievances?
TELL.
The serpent stings not till it is provoked;
Let them alone; they'll weary of themselves,
When they shall see we are not to be roused.
STAUFF.
Much might be done--did we stand fast together.
TELL.
When the ship founders, he will best escape
Who seeks no other's safety but his own.
STAUFF.
And you desert the common cause so coldly?
TELL.
A man can safely count but on himself!
STAUFF.
Nay, even the weak grow strong by union.
TELL.
But the strong man is strongest when alone.
STAUFF.
So, then, your country cannot count on you,
If in despair she rise against her foes.
TELL.
Tell rescues the lost sheep from yawning gulfs:
Is he a man, then, to desert his friends?
Yet, whatsoe'er you do, spare me from council!
I was not born to ponder and select;
But when your course of action is resolved,
Then call on Tell: you shall not find him fail.
[_Exeunt severally. A sudden tumult is heard around the
scaffolding_.]
MASON (_running in_).
What's wrong?
FIRST WORKMAN (_running forward_).
The slater's fallen from the roof.
BERTHA (_rushing in_).
Heavens! Is he dashed to pieces? Save him, help!
If help be possible, save him! Here is gold.
[_Throws her trinkets among the people_.]
MASON.
Hence with your gold--your universal charm,
And remedy for ill! When you have torn
Fathers from children, husbands from their wives,
And scattered woe and wail throughout the land,
You think with gold to compensate for all.
Hence! Till we saw you, we were happy men;
With you came misery and dark despair.
BERTHA (_to the_ TASKMASTER, _who has returned_).
Lives he?
[TASKMASTER _shakes his head_.]
Ill-omened towers, with curses built,
And doomed with curses to be tenanted!
[_Exit_.]
SCENE IV
_The house of_ WALTER FÜRST. WALTER FÜRST _and_ ARNOLD VON
MELCHTHAL _enter simultaneously at different sides_.
MELCH.
Good Walter Fürst
FÜRST.
If we should be surprised!
Stay where you are. We are beset with spies.
MELCH.
Have you no news for me from Unterwald?
What of my father? 'Tis not to be borne
Thus to be pent up like a felon here!
What have I done so heinous that I must
Skulk here in hiding, like a murderer?
I only laid my staff across the fists
Of the pert varlet, when before my eyes,
By order of the governor, he tried
To drive away my handsome team of oxen.
FÜRST.
You are too rash by far. He did no more
Than what the governor had ordered him.
You had transgress'd, and therefore should have paid
The penalty, however hard, in silence.
MELCH.
Was I to brook the fellow's saucy gibe--
"That if the peasant must have bread to eat,
Why, let him go and draw the plough himself?"
It cut me to the very soul to see
My oxen, noble creatures, when the knave
Unyoked them from the plough. As though they felt
The wrong, they lowed and butted with their horns.
On this I could contain myself no longer,
And, overcome by passion, struck him down.
FÜRST.
O, we old men can scarce command ourselves!
And can we wonder youth breaks out of bounds?
MELCH.
I'm only sorry for my father's sake!
To be away from him, that needs so much
My fostering care! The governor detests him,
Because, whene'er occasion served, he has
Stood stoutly up for right and liberty.
Therefore they'll bear him hard--the poor old man!
And there is none to shield him from their grip.
Come what come may, I must go home again.
FÜRST.
Compose yourself, and wait in patience till
We get some tidings o'er from Unterwald.
Away I away! I hear a knock! Perhaps
A message from the Viceroy! Get thee in!
You are not safe from Landenberger's[42] arm
In Uri, for these tyrants pull together.
MELCH.
They teach us Switzers what _we_ ought to do.
FÜRST.
Away! I'll call you when the coast is clear.
[MELCHTHAL _retires_.]
Unhappy youth! I dare not tell him all
The evil that my boding heart predicts!
Who's there? The door ne'er opens, but I look
For tidings of mishap. Suspicion lurks
With darkling treachery in every nook.
Even to our inmost rooms they force their way,
These myrmidons of power; and soon we'll need
To fasten bolts and bars upon our doors.
[_He opens the door, and steps back in surprise as_ WERNER
STAUFFACHER _enters_.]
What do I see? You, Werner? Now, by Heaven!
A valued guest, indeed. No man e'er set
His foot across this threshold, more esteem'd,
Welcome! thrice welcome, Werner, to my roof!
What brings you here? What seek you here in Uri?
STAUFFACHER (_shakes_ FÜRST by _the hand_).
The olden times and olden Switzerland.
FÜRST.
You bring them with you. See how glad I am,
My heart leaps at the very sight of you.
Sit down--sit down, and tell me how you left
Your charming wife, fair Gertrude? Iberg's child,
And clever as her father. Not a man
That wends from Germany, by Meinrad's Cell,[43]
To Italy, but praises far and wide
Your house's hospitality. But say,
Have you come here direct from Flüelen,
And have you noticed nothing on your way,
Before you halted at my door?
STAUFFACHER (_sits down_).
I saw
A work in progress, as I came along,
I little thought to see--that likes me ill.
FÜRST.
O friend! you've lighted on my thought at once.
STAUFF.
Such things in Uri ne'er were known before.
Never was prison here in man's remembrance,
Nor ever any stronghold but the grave.
FÜRST.
You name it well. It is the grave of freedom.
STAUFF.
Friend, Walter Fürst, I will be plain with you.
No idle curiosity it is
That brings me here, but heavy cares. I left
Thraldom at home, and thraldom meets me here.
Our wrongs, e'en now, are more than we can bear,
And who shall tell us where they are to end?
From eldest time the Switzer has been free,
Accustom'd only to the mildest rule.
Such things as now we suffer ne'er were known,
Since herdsman first drove cattle to the hills.
FÜRST.
Yes, our oppressions are unparallel'd!
Why, even our own good lord of Attinghaus,
Who lived in olden times, himself declares
They are no longer to be tamely borne.
STAUFF.
In Unterwalden yonder 'tis the same;
And bloody has the retribution been.
The imperial Seneschal, the Wolfshot, who
At Rossberg dwelt, long'd for forbidden fruit--
Baumgarten's wife, that lives at Alzellen,
He tried to make a victim to his lust,
On which the husband slew him with his age.
FÜRST.
O, Heaven is just in all its judgments still!
Baumgarten, say you? A most worthy man.
Has he escaped, and is he safely hid?
STAUFF.
Your son-in-law conveyed him o'er the lake,
And he lies hidden in my house at Steinen.
He brought the tidings with him of a thing
That has been done at Sarnen, worse than all,
A thing to make the very heart run blood!
FÜRST (_attentively_).
Say on. What is it?
STAUFF.
There dwells in Melchthal, then,
Just as you enter by the road from Kerns,
An upright man, named Henry of the Halden,
A man of weight and influence in the Diet.
FÜRST.
Who knows him not? But what of him? Proceed!
STAUFF.
The Landenberg, to punish some offense
Committed by the old man's son, it seems,
Had given command to take the youth's best pair
Of oxen from his plough; on which the lad
Struck down the messenger and took to flight.
FÜRST.
But the old father--tell me, what of him?
STAUFF.
The Landenberg sent for him, and required
He should produce his son upon the spot;
And when the old man protested, and with truth,
That he knew nothing of the fugitive,
The tyrant call'd his torturers.
FÜRST (_springs up and tries to lead him to the other side_).
Hush, no more!
STAUFFACHER (_with increasing warmth_).
"And though thy son," he cried, "has 'scaped me now,
I have thee fast, and thou shalt feel my vengeance."
With that they flung the old man to the ground,
And plunged the pointed steel into his eyes.
FÜRST.
Merciful Heaven!
MELCHTHAL (_rushing out_).
Into his eyes, his eyes?
STAUFFACHER (_addresses himself in astonishment to_ WALTER
FÜRST).
Who is this youth?
MELCHTHAL (_grasping him convulsively_).
Into his eyes? Speak, speak!
FÜRST.
O, miserable hour!
STAUFF.
Who is it, tell me!
[STAUFFACHER _makes a sign to him_.]
It is his son! All-righteous Heaven!
MELCH.
And I
Must be from thence! What! into both his eyes?
FÜRST.
Be calm, be calm; and bear it like a man!
MELCH.
And all for me--for my mad wilful folly!
Blind, did you say? Quite blind--and both his eyes?
STAUFF.
Ev'n so. 'The fountain of his sight is quench'd,
He ne'er will see the blessed sunshine more.
FÜRST.
Oh, spare his anguish!
MELCH.
Never, never more!
[_Presses his hands upon his eyes and is silent for some
moments: then turning from one to the other speaks in a
subdued tone, broken by sobs._]
O the eye's light, of all the gifts of Heaven,
The dearest, best! From light all beings live--
Each fair created thing--the very plants
Turn with a joyful transport to the light,
And he--he must drag on through all his days
In endless darkness! Never more for him
The sunny meads shall glow, the flow'rets bloom;
Nor shall he more behold the roseate tints
Of the iced mountain top! To die is nothing.
But to have life, and not have sight--oh, that
Is misery indeed! Why do you look
So piteously at me? I have two eyes,
Yet to my poor blind father can give neither!
No, not one gleam of that great sea of light,
That with its dazzling splendor floods my gaze.
STAUFF.
Ah, I must swell the measure of your grief,
Instead of soothing it. The worst, alas!
Remains to tell. They've stripp'd him of his all;
Naught have they left him, save his staff, on which,
Blind, and in rags, he moves from door to door.
MELCH.
Naught but his staff to the old eyeless man!
Stripp'd of his all--even of the light of day,
The common blessing of the meanest wretch?
Tell me no more of patience, of concealment!
Oh, what a base and coward thing am I,
That on mine own security I thought
And took no care of thine! Thy precious head
Left as a pledge within the tyrant's grasp!
Hence, craven-hearted prudence, hence! And all
My thoughts be vengeance, and the despot's blood!
I'll seek him straight--no power shall stay me now--
And at his hands demand my father's eyes.
I'll beard him 'mid a thousand myrmidons!
What's life to me, if in his heart's best blood
I cool the fever of this mighty anguish.
[_He is going_.]
FÜRST.
Stay, this is madness, Melchthal! What avails
Your single arm against his power? He sits
At Sarnen high within his lordly keep,
And, safe within its battlemented walls,
May laugh to scorn your unavailing rage.
MELCH.
And though he sat within the icy domes
Of yon far Schreckhorn--ay, or higher, where,
Veil'd since eternity, the Jungfrau soars,
Still to the tyrant would I make my way;
With twenty comrades minded like myself,
I'd lay his fastness level with the earth!
And if none follow me, and if you all,
In terror for your homesteads and your herds,
Bow in submission to the tyrant's yoke,
Round me I'll call the herdsmen on the hills,
And there beneath heaven's free and boundless roof,
Where men still feel as men, and hearts are true,
Proclaim aloud this foul enormity!
STAUFFACHER (_to_ FÜRST).
The measure's full--and are we then to wait
Till some extremity--
MELCH.
Peace! What extremity
Remains for us to dread? What, when our eyes
No longer in their sockets are secure?
Heavens! Are we helpless? Wherefore did we learn
To bend the cross-bow--wield the battle-axe?
What living creature but in its despair,
Finds for itself a weapon of defence?
The baited stag will turn, and with the show
Of his dread antlers hold the hounds at bay;
The chamois drags the huntsman down th' abyss;
The very ox, the partner of man's toil,
The sharer of his roof, that meekly bends
The strength of his huge neck beneath the yoke,
Springs up, if he's provoked, whets his strong horn,
And tosses his tormentor to the clouds.
FÜRST.
If the three Cantons thought as we three do,
Something might, then, be done, with good effect.
STAUFF.
When Uri calls, when Unterwald replies,
Schwytz will be mindful of her ancient league.[44]
MELCH.
I've many friends in Unterwald, and none
That would not gladly venture life and limb,
If fairly back'd and aided by the rest.
Oh! sage and reverend fathers of this land,
Here do I stand before your riper years,
An unskill'd youth, who in the Diet must
Into respectful silence hush his voice.
Yet do not, for that I am young, and want
Experience, slight my counsel and my words.
'Tis not the wantonness of youthful blood
That fires my spirit; but a pang so deep
That e'en the flinty rocks must pity me.
You, too, are fathers, heads of families,
And you must wish to have a virtuous son,
To reverence your gray hairs, and shield your eyes
With pious and affectionate regard.
Do not, I pray, because in limb and fortune
You still are unassail'd, and still your eyes
Revolve undimm'd and sparkling in their spheres--
Oh, do not, therefore, disregard our wrongs!
Above you, also, hangs the tyrant's sword.
You, too, have striven to alienate the land
From Austria. This was all my father's crime:
You share his guilt, and _may_ his punishment.
STAUFFACHER (_to_ FÜRST).
Do thou resolve! I am prepared to follow.
FÜRST.
First let us learn what steps the noble lords
Von Sillinen and Attinghaus propose.
Their names would rally thousands to the cause.
MELCH.
Is there a name within the Forest Mountains
That carries more respect than yours--and yours?
On names like these the people build their trust
In time of need--such names are household words.
Rich was your heritage of manly worth,
And richly have you added to its stores.
What need of nobles? Let us do the work
Ourselves. Yes, though we have to stand alone,
We shall be able to maintain our rights.
STAUFF.
The nobles' wrongs are not so great as ours.
The torrent, that lays waste the lower grounds,
Hath not ascended to the uplands yet.
But let them see the country once in arms,
They'll not refuse to lend a helping hand.
FÜRST.
Were there an umpire 'twixt ourselves and Austria,
Justice and law might then decide our quarrel.
But our oppressor is our Emperor too,
And judge supreme. 'Tis God must help us, then,
And our own arm! Be yours the task to rouse
The men of Schwytz; I'll rally friends in Uri.
But whom are we to send to Unterwald?
MELCH.
Thither send me. Whom should it more concern?
FÜRST.
No, Melchthal, no; you are my guest, and I
Must answer for your safety.
MELCH.
Let me go.
I know each forest track and mountain path;
Friends too, I'll find, be sure, on every hand,
To give me willing shelter from the foe.
STAUFF.
Nay, let him go; no traitors harbor there:
For tyranny is so abhorred in Unterwald,
No tools can there be found to work her will.
In the low valleys, too, the Alzeller
Will gain confederates, and rouse the country.
MELCH.
But how shall we communicate, and not
Awaken the suspicion of the tyrants?
STAUFF.
Might we not meet at Brunnen or at Treib,
Where merchant vessels with their cargoes come?
FÜRST.
We must not go so openly to work.
Hear my opinion. On the lake's left bank,
As we sail hence to Brunnen, right against
The Mytenstein, deep-hidden in the wood
A meadow lies, by shepherds called the Rootli,
Because the wood has been uprooted there.
'Tis where our Canton bound'ries verge on yours;--
[_To_ MELCHTHAL.]
Your boat will carry you across from Schwytz.
[_To_ STAUFFACHER.]
Thither by lonely by-paths let us wend
At midnight, and deliberate o'er our plans.
Let each bring with him there ten trusty men,
All one at heart with us; and then we may
Consult together for the general weal,
And, with God's guidance, fix what next to do.
STAUFF.
So let it be. And now your true right hand!
Yours, too, young man! and as we now three men
Among ourselves thus knit our hands together
In all sincerity and truth, e'en so
Shall we three Cantons, too, together stand
In victory and defeat, in life and death.
FÜRST _and_ MELCHTHAL.
In life and death.
[_They hold their hands clasped together for some moments in
silence_.]
MELCH.
Alas, my old blind father!
The day of freedom, that thou canst not see.
But thou shalt hear it, when from Alp to Alp
The beacon fires throw up their flaming signs,
And the proud castles of the tyrants fall,
Into thy cottage shall the Switzer burst,
Bear the glad tidings to thine ear, and o'er
Thy darken'd way shall Freedom's radiance pour.
* * * * *
ACT II
SCENE I
_The Mansion of the_ BARON of ATTINGHAUSEN. _A Gothic Hall,
decorated with escutcheons and helmets_. The BARON, _a
gray-headed man, eighty-five years old, tall and of a
commanding mien, clad in a furred pelisse, and leaning on a
staff tipped with chamois horn_. KUONI _and six hinds
standing round him with rakes and scythes_. ULRICH of RUDENZ
_enters in the costume of a Knight_.
RUDENZ.
Uncle, I'm here! Your will?
ATTINGHAUSEN.
First let me share,
After the ancient custom of our house,
The morning cup, with these my faithful servants!
[_He drinks from a cup, which is then passed round_.]
Time was, I stood myself in field and wood,
With mine own eyes directing all their toil,
Even as my banner led them in the fight;
Now I am only fit to play the steward:
And, if the genial sun come not to me,
I can no longer seek it on the hills.
Thus slowly, in an ever narrowing sphere,
I move on to the narrowest and the last,
Where all life's pulses cease. I now am but
The shadow of my former self, and that
Is fading fast--'twill soon be but a name.
KUONI (_offering_ RUDENZ _the cup_).
A pledge, young master!
[RUDENZ _hesitates to take the cup_.]
Nay, Sir, drink it off.
One cup, one heart! You know our proverb, Sir?
ATTING.
Go, children, and at eve, when work is done,
We'll meet and talk the country's business over.
[_Exeunt Servants_.]
Belted and plumed, and all thy bravery on!
Thou art for Altdorf--for the castle, boy?
RUDENZ.
Yes, uncle. Longer may I not delay--
ATTINGHAUSEN (_sitting down_).
Why in such haste? Say, are thy youthful hours
Doled in such niggard measure, that thou must
Be chary of them to thy aged uncle?
RUDENZ.
I see my presence is not needed here;
I am but as a stranger in this house.
ATTINGHAUSEN (_gazes fixedly at him for a considerable
time_).
Ay, pity 'tis thou art! Alas, that home
To thee has grown so strange! Oh, Uly! Uly!
I scarce do know thee now, thus deck'd in silks,
The peacock's feather[45] flaunting in thy cap,
And purple mantle round thy shoulders flung;
Thou look'st upon the peasant with disdain;
And tak'st his honest greeting with a blush.
RUDENZ.
All honor due to him I gladly pay,
But must deny the right he would usurp.
ATTING.
The sore displeasure of its monarch rests
Upon our land, and every true man's heart
Is full of sadness for the grievous wrongs
We suffer from our tyrants. Thou alone
Art all unmoved amid the general grief.
Abandoning thy friends, thou tak'st thy stand
Beside thy country's foes, and, as in scorn
Of our distress, pursuest giddy joys,
Courting the smiles of princes all the while
Thy country bleeds beneath their cruel scourge.
RUDENZ.
The land is sore oppress'd, I know it, uncle.
But why? Who plunged it into this distress?
A word, one little easy word, might buy
Instant deliverance from all our ills,
And win the good will of the Emperor.
Woe unto those who seal the people's eyes,
And make them adverse to their country's good--
The men, who, for their own vile selfish ends,
Are seeking to prevent the Forest States
From swearing fealty to Austria's House,
As all the countries round about have done.
It fits their humor well, to take their seats
Amid the nobles on the Herrenbank;[46]
They'll have the Kaiser for their lord, forsooth--
That is to say, they'll have no lord at all.
ATTING.
Must I hear this, and from thy lips, rash boy!
RUDENZ.
You urged me to this answer. Hear me out.
What, uncle, is the character you've stoop'd
To fill contentedly through life? Have you
No higher pride than in these lonely wilds
To be the Landamman or Banneret,[47]
The petty chieftain of a shepherd race?
How! Were it not a far more glorious choice,
To bend in homage to our royal lord,
And swell the princely splendors of his court,
Than sit at home, the peer of your own vassals,
And share the judgment-seat with vulgar clowns?
ATTING.
Ah, Uly, Uly; all too well I see,
The tempter's voice has caught thy willing ear,
And pour'd its subtle poison in thy heart.
RUDENZ.
Yes, I conceal it not. It doth offend
My inmost soul, to hear the stranger's gibes,
That taunt us with the name of "Peasant Nobles!"
Think you the heart that's stirring here can brook,
While all the young nobility around
Are reaping honor under Habsburg's banner,
That I should loiter, in inglorious ease,
Here on the heritage my fathers left,
And, in the dull routine of vulgar toil,
Lose all life's glorious spring? In other lands
Great deeds are done. A world of fair renown
Beyond these mountains stirs in martial pomp.
My helm and shield are rusting in the hall;
The martial trumpet's spirit-stirring blast,
The herald's call, inviting to the lists,
Rouse not the echoes of these vales, where naught
Save cowherd's horn and cattle bell is heard,
In one unvarying dull monotony.
ATTING.
Deluded boy, seduced by empty show!
Despise the land that gave thee birth! Ashamed
Of the good ancient customs of thy sires!
The day will come, when thou, with burning tears,
Wilt long for home, and for thy native hills,
And that dear melody of tuneful herds,
Which now, in proud disgust, thou dost despise!
A day when wistful pangs shall shake thy heart,
Hearing their music in a foreign land.
Oh! potent is the spell that binds to home!
No, no, the cold, false world is not for thee.
At the proud court, with thy true heart, thou wilt
Forever feel a stranger among strangers.
The world asks virtues of far other stamp
Than thou hast learned within these simple vales.
But go--go thither--barter thy free soul,
Take land in fief, be minion to a prince,
Where thou might'st be lord paramount, and prince
Of all thine own unburden'd heritage!
O, Uly, Uly, stay among thy people!
Go not to Altdorf. Oh, abandon not
The sacred cause of thy wrong'd native land!
I am the last of all my race. My name
Ends with me. Yonder hang my helm and shield;
They will be buried with me in the grave.[48]
And must I think, when yielding up my breath,
That thou but wait'st the closing of mine eyes,
To stoop thy knee to this new feudal court,
And take in vassalage from Austria's hands
The noble lands, which I from God received,
Free and unfetter'd as the mountain air!
RUDENZ.
'Tis vain for us to strive against the king.
The world pertains to him. Shall we alone,
In mad presumptuous obstinacy, strive
To break that mighty chain of lands, which he
Hath drawn around us with his giant grasp?
His are the markets, his the courts--his, too,
The highways; nay, the very carrier's horse,
That traffics on the Gotthardt, pays him toll.
By his dominions, as within a net,
We are inclosed, and girded round about--
And will the Empire shield us? Say, can it
Protect itself 'gainst Austria's growing power?
To God, and not to emperors must we look!
What store can on their promises be placed,
When they, to meet their own necessities,
Can pawn, and even alienate the towns
That flee for shelter 'neath the Eagle's wings?[49]
No, uncle! It is wise and wholesome prudence,
In times like these, when faction's all abroad,
To vow attachment to some mighty chief.
The imperial crown's transferred from line to line.[50]
It has no memory for faithful service
But to secure the favor of these great
Hereditary masters, were to sow
Seed for a future harvest.
ATTINGHAUSEN.
Art so wise?
Wilt thou see clearer than thy noble sires,
Who battled for fair freedom's priceless gem
With life, and fortune, and heroic arm?
Sail down the lake to Lucern, there inquire
How Austria's thraldom weighs the Cantons down.
Soon she will come to count our sheep, our cattle,
To portion out the Alps, e'en to their peaks,
And in our own free woods to hinder us
From striking down the eagle or the stag;
To set her tolls on every bridge and gate,
Impoverish us, to swell her lust of sway,
And drain our dearest blood to feed her wars.
No, if our blood must flow, let it be shed
In our own cause! We purchase liberty
More cheaply far than bondage.
RUDENZ.
What can we,
A shepherd race, against great Albert's hosts?
ATTING.
Learn, foolish boy, to know this shepherd race!
I know them, I have led them on in fight--
I saw them in the battle of Favenz.
What! Austria try, forsooth, to force on us
A yoke we are determined not to bear!
Oh, learn to feel from what a stock thou'rt sprung;
Cast not, for tinsel trash and idle show,
The precious jewel of thy worth away.
To be the chieftain of a free born race,
Bound to thee only by their unbought love,
Ready to stand--to fight--to die with thee,
Be that thy pride, be that thy noblest boast!
Knit to thy heart the ties of kindred--home--
Cling to the land, the dear land of thy sires,
Grapple to that with thy whole heart and soul!
Thy power is rooted deep and strongly here,
But in yon stranger world thou'lt stand alone,
A trembling reed beat down by every blast.
Oh come! 'tis long since we have seen thee, Uly!
Tarry but this one day. Only today!
Go not to Altdorf. Wilt thou? Not today!
For this one day, bestow thee on thy friends.
[_Takes his hand_.]
RUDENZ.
I gave my word. Unhand me! I am bound.
ATTING. (_drops his hand and says sternly_).
Bound, didst thou say? Oh yes, unhappy boy,
Thou art indeed. But not by word or oath.
'Tis by the silken mesh of love thou'rt bound.
[RUDENZ _turns away_.]
Ay, hide thee, as thou wilt. 'Tis she, I know,
Bertha of Bruneck, draws thee to the court;
'Tis she that chains thee to the Emperor's service.
Thou think'st to win the noble knightly maid
By thy apostacy. Be not deceived.
She is held out before thee as a lure;
But never meant for innocence like thine.
RUDENZ.
No more, I've heard enough. So fare you well.
_[Exit.]_
ATTING.
Stay, Uly! Stay! Rash boy, he's gone! I can
Nor hold him back, nor save him from destruction.
And so the Wolfshot has deserted us;
Others will follow his example soon.
This foreign witchery, sweeping o'er our hills,
Tears with its potent spell our youth away.
O luckless hour, when men and manners strange
Into these calm and happy valleys came,
To warp our primitive and guileless ways!
The new is pressing on with might. The old,
The good, the simple, all fleet fast away.
New times come on. A race is springing up
That think not as their fathers thought before!
What do I hear? All, all are in the grave
With whom erewhile I moved, and held converse;
My age has long been laid beneath the sod
Happy the man, who may not live to see
What shall be done by those that follow me!
SCENE II
_A meadow surrounded by high rocks and wooded ground. On the
rocks are tracks, with rails and ladders, by which the
peasants are afterward seen descending. In the background
the lake is observed, and over it a moon rainbow in the
early part of the scene. The prospect is closed by lofty
mountains, with glaciers rising behind them. The stage is
dark, but the lake and glaciers glisten in the moonlight._
MELCHTHAL, BAUMGARTEN, WINKELRIED, MEYER VON SARNEN BURKHART
AM BUHEL, ARNOLD VON SEWA, KLAUS VON DER FLUE, _and four
other peasants, all armed._
MELCHTHAL _(behind the scenes)_.
The mountain pass is open. Follow me!
I see the rock, and little cross upon it:
This is the spot; here is the Rootli.
_[They enter with torches.]_
WINKELRIED.
Hark!
SEWA.
The coast is clear.
MEYER.
None of our comrades come?
We are the first, we Unterwaldeners.
MELCH.
How far is't i' the night?
BAUMGARTEN.
The beacon watch
Upon the Selisberg has just called two.
_[A bell is heard at a distance.]_
MEYER.
Hush! Hark!
BUHEL.
The forest chapel's matin bell
Chimes clearly o'er the lake from Switzerland.
VON F.
The air is clear and bears the sound so far.
MELCH.
Go, you and you, and light some broken boughs,
Let's bid them welcome with a cheerful blaze.
_[Two peasants exeunt_.]
SEWA.
The moon shines fair tonight. Beneath its beams
The lake reposes, bright as burnish'd steel.
BUHEL. They'll have an easy passage.
WINK. _(pointing to the lake_).
Ha! look there!
Do you see nothing?
MEYER.
Ay, indeed, I do!
A rainbow in the middle of the night.
MELCH.
Formed by the bright reflection of the moon!
VON F.
A sign most strange and wonderful, indeed!
Many there be who ne'er have seen the like.
SEWA.
'Tis doubled, see, a paler one above!
BAUM.
A boat is gliding yonder right beneath it.
MELCH.
That must be Werner Stauffacher! I knew
The worthy patriot would not tarry long.
_[Goes with_ BAUMGARTEN _toward the shore_.]
MEYER.
The Uri men are like to be the last.
BUHEL.
They're forced to take a winding circuit through
The mountains; for the Viceroy's spies are out.
_[In the meanwhile the two peasants have kindled a fire in
the centre of the stage.]_ MELCHTHAL _(on the shore)_.
Who's there? The word?
STAUFFACHER _(from below_).
Friends of the country.
_[All retire up the stage, toward the party landing from the
boat. Enter_ STAUFFACHER, ITEL REDING, HANS AUF DER MAUER,
JORG IM HOFE, CONRAD HUNN, ULRICH DER SCHMIDT, JOST VON
WEILER, _and three other peasants, armed.]_
ALL.
Welcome!
_[While the rest remain behind exchanging greetings_,
MELCHTHAL _Comes forward with_ STAUFFACHER.]
MELCH.
Oh worthy Stauffacher, I've look'd but now
On him who could not look on me again;
I've laid my hands upon his rayless eyes,
And on their vacant orbits sworn a vow
Of vengeance, only to be cool'd in blood.
STAUFF.
Speak not of vengeance. We are here, to meet
The threatened evil, not to avenge the past.
Now tell me what you've done, and what secured,
To aid the common cause in Unterwald.
How stand the peasantry disposed, and how
Yourself escaped the wiles of treachery?
MELCH.
Through the Surenen's fearful mountain chain,
Where dreary ice-fields stretch on every side,
And sound is none save the hoarse vulture's cry,
I reach'd the Alpine pasture, where the herds
From Uri and from Engelberg resort,
And turn their cattle forth to graze in common.
Still as I went along, I slaked my thirst
With the coarse oozings of the glacier heights
That thro' the crevices come foaming down,
And turned to rest me in the herdsmen's cots,[51]
Where I was host and guest, until I gain'd
The cheerful homes and social haunts of men.
Already through these distant vales had spread
The rumor of this last atrocity;
And wheresoe'er I went, at every door,
Kind words saluted me and gentle looks.
I found these simple spirits all in arms
Against our rulers' tyrannous encroachments.
For as their Alps through each succeeding year
Yield the same roots--their streams flow ever on
In the same channels--nay, the clouds and winds
The selfsame course unalterably pursue,
So have old customs there, from sire to son,
Been handed down, unchanging and unchanged;
Nor will they brook to swerve or turn aside
From the fixed even tenor of their life.
With grasp of their hard hands they welcomed me--
Took from the walls their rusty falchions down--
And from their eyes the soul of valor flash'd
With joyful lustre, as I spoke those names,
Sacred to every peasant in the mountains,
Your own and Walter Fürst's. Whate'er your voice
Should dictate as the right, they swore to do;
And you they swore to follow e'en to death.
--So sped I on from house to house, secure
In the guest's sacred privilege;--and when
I reached at last the valley of my home,
Where dwell my kinsmen, scatter'd far and near--
And when I found my father, stript and blind,
Upon the stranger's straw, fed by the alms
Of charity--
STAUFFACHER.
Great heavens!
MELCHTHAL.
Yet wept I not!
No--not in weak and unavailing tears
Spent I the force of my fierce burning anguish;
Deep in my bosom, like some precious treasure,
I lock'd it fast, and thought on deeds alone.
Through every winding of the hills I crept--
No valley so remote but I explored it;
Nay, at the very glacier's ice-clad base,
I sought and found the homes of living men;
And still, where'er my wandering footsteps turn'd,
The selfsame hatred of these tyrants met me.
For even there, at vegetation's verge,
Where the numb'd earth is barren of all fruits,
Their grasping hands had been for plunder thrust.
Into the hearts of all this honest race
The story of my wrongs struck deep, and now
They, to a man, are ours; both heart and hand.
STAUFF.
Great things, indeed, you've wrought in little time.
MELCH.
I did still more than this. The fortresses,
Rossberg and Sarnen, are the country's dread;
For from behind their adamantine walls
The foe, like eagle from his eyrie swoops,
And, safe himself, spreads havoc o'er the land.
With my own eyes I wish'd to weigh its strength,
So went to Sarnen, and explored the castle.
STAUFF.
How! Venture even into the tiger's den?
MELCH.
Disguised in pilgrim's weeds I entered it;
I saw the Viceroy feasting at his board--
Judge if I'm master of myself or no!
I saw the tyrant, and I slew him not!
STAUFF.
Fortune, indeed, upon your boldness smiled.
_[Meanwhile the others have arrived and join_ MELCHTHAL
_and_ STAUFFACHER.]
Yet tell me now, I pray, who are the friends,
The worthy men, who came along with you
Make me acquainted with them, that we may
Speak frankly, man to man, and heart to heart.
MEYER.
In the three Cantons, who, sir, knows not you?
Meyer of Sarnen is my name; and this
Is Struth of Winkelried, my sister's son.
STAUFF.
No unknown name. A Winkelried it was
Who slew the dragon in the fen at Weiler,
And lost his life in the encounter, too.
WINK.
That, Master Stauffacher, was my grandfather.
MELCHTHAL _(pointing to two peasants)_.
These two are men who till the cloister lands
Of Engelberg, and live behind the forest.
You'll not think ill of them, because they're serfs,
And sit not free upon the soil, like us;
They love the land, and bear a good repute.
STAUFFACHER _(to them)_.
Give me your hands. He has good cause for thanks
That to no man his body's service owes.
But worth is worth, no matter where 'tis found.
HUNN.
That is Herr Reding, sir, our old Landamman;
MEYER.
I know him well. I am at law with him
About a piece of ancient heritage.
Herr Reding, we are enemies in court--
Here we are one.
_[Shakes his hand_.]
STAUFFACHER.
That's well and bravely said.
WINK. Listen! They come. The horn of Uri! Hark!
_[On the right and left armed men are seen descending the
rocks with torches_.]
MAUER.
Look, is not that the holy man of God?
A worthy priest! The terrors of the night,
And the way's pains and perils scare not him,
A faithful shepherd caring for his flock.
BAUM. The Sacrist follows him, and Walter Fürst.
But where is Tell? I do not see him there.
[WALTER FÜRST, RÖSSELMANN _the Pastor,_ PETERMANN _the
Sacrist_, KUONI _the Shepherd_ WERNI _the Huntsman_, RUODI
_the Fisherman, and other countrymen, thirty-three in all,
advance and take their places round the fire.]_
FÜRST.
Thus must we, on the soil our fathers left us,
Creep forth by stealth to meet like murderers,
And in the night, that should her mantle lend
Only to, crime and black conspiracy,
Assert our own good rights which yet are clear
As is the radiance of the noonday sun.
MELCH.
So be it. What is hatch'd in gloom of night
Shall free and boldly meet the morning light.
RÖSSEL.
Confederates! Listen to the words which God
Inspires my heart withal. Here we are met,
To represent the general weal. In us
Are all the people of the land convened.
Then let us hold the Diet, as of old,
And as we're wont in peaceful times to do.
The time's necessity be our excuse,
If there be aught informal in this meeting.
Still, wheresoe'er men strike for justice, there
Is God, and now beneath His heav'n we stand.
STAUFF.
'Tis well advised.--Let us, then, hold the Diet,
According to our ancient usages.--
Though it be night, there's sunshine in our cause.
MELCH.
Few though our numbers be, the hearts are here
Of the whole people; here the BEST are met.
HUNN.
The ancient books may not be near at hand,
Yet are they graven in our inmost hearts.
RÖSSEL.
'Tis well. And now, then, let a ring be formed,
And plant the swords of power within the ground.[52]
MAUER.
Let the Landamman step into his place,
And by his side his secretaries stand.
SACRIST.
There are three Cantons here. Which hath the right
To give the head to the united Council?
Schwytz may contest that dignity with Uri;
We Unterwald'ners enter not the field.
MELCH.
We stand aside. We are but suppliants here,
Invoking aid from our more potent friends.
STAUFF.
Let Uri have the sword. Her banner takes,
In battle, the precedence of our own.
FÜRST.
Schwytz, then, must share the honor of the sword;
For she's the honored ancestor of all.
RÖSSEL.
Let me arrange this generous controversy.
Uri shall lead in battle--Schwytz in Council.
FÜRST _(gives_ STAUFFACHER _his hand)_.
Then take your place.
STAUFFACHER.
Not I. Some older man.
HOFE.
Ulrich, the Smith, is the most aged here.
MAUER.
A worthy man, but not a freeman; no!
--No bondman can be judge in Switzerland.
STAUFF.
Is not Herr Reding here, our old Landamman!
Where can we find a worthier man than he?
FÜRST.
Let him be Amman and the Diet's chief!
You that agree with me, hold up your hands!
_[All hold up their right hands_.]
REDING _(stepping into the centre)_.
I cannot lay my hands upon the books;
But by yon everlasting stars I swear,
Never to swerve from justice and the right.
_[The two swords are placed before him, and a circle formed;
Schwytz in the centre, Uri on his right, Unterwald on his
left.]_
REDING _(resting on his battle sword)_.
Why, at the hour when spirits walk the earth,
Meet the three Cantons of the mountains here,
Upon the lake's inhospitable shore?
What may the purport be of this new league
We here contract beneath the starry heaven?
STAUFFACHER _(entering the circle_).
'Tis no new league that here we now contract;
But one our fathers framed, in ancient times,
We purpose to renew! For know, confederates,
Though mountain ridge and lake divide our bounds,
And each Canton by its own laws is ruled,
Yet are we but one race, born of one blood,
And all are children of one common home.
WINK.
Is then the burden of our legends true,
That we came hither from a distant land?
Oh, tell us what you know, that our new league
May reap fresh vigor from the leagues of old.
STAUFF.
Hear, then, what aged herdsmen tell. There dwelt
A mighty people in the land that lies
Back to the north. The scourge of famine came;
And in this strait 'twas publicly resolved
That each tenth man, on whom the lot might fall,
Should leave the country. They obey'd--and forth,
With loud lamentings, men and women went,
A mighty host; and to the south moved on,
Cutting their way through Germany by the sword,
Until they gained these pine-clad hills of ours;
Nor stopp'd they ever on their forward course,
Till at the shaggy dell they halted where
The Müta flows through its luxuriant meads.
No trace of human creature met their eye,
Save one poor hut upon the desert shore,
Where dwelt a lonely man, and kept the ferry.
A tempest raged--the lake rose mountains high
And barr'd their further progress. Thereupon
They view'd the country--found it rich in wood,
Discover'd goodly springs, and felt as they
Were in their own dear native land once more.
Then they resolved to settle on the spot;
Erected there the ancient town of Schwytz;
And many a day of toil had they to clear
The tangled brake and forest's spreading roots.
Meanwhile their numbers grew, the soil became
Unequal to sustain them, and they cross'd
To the black mountain, far as Weissland, where,
Conceal'd behind eternal walls of ice,
Another people speak another tongue.
They built the village of Stanz, beside the Kernwald;
The village Altdorf, in the vale of Reuss;
Yet, ever mindful of their parent stem,
The men of Schwytz, from all the stranger race
That since that time have settled in the land,
Each other recognize. Their hearts still know,
And beat fraternally to kindred blood.
_[Extends his hand right and left_.]
MAUER.
Ay, we are all one heart, one blood, one race!
ALL _(joining hands)_.
We are one people, and will act as one.
STAUFF.
The nations round us bear a foreign yoke;
For they have to the conqueror succumbed.
Nay, e'en within our frontiers may be found
Some, that owe villein service to a lord,
A race of bonded serfs from sire to son.
But we, the genuine race of ancient Swiss,
Have kept our freedom from the first till now.
Never to princes have we bow'd the knee;
Freely we sought protection of the Empire.
RÖSSEL.